All right, there's officially a conspiracy. Big−name studios are ensnaring talented, indie−minded directors and using them to churn out shoddy films. First came the catastrophic blunder of "X−Men Origins: Wolverine" (2009), then last year's critical misfire "The Tourist" and now this. OK, in all fairness, "Source Code" isn't actually shoddy. But as a disappointing follow−up from Duncan Jones, the man who brought us "Moon" (2009), it can't help but be a heartbreaker for his fans, in spite of its relative decency.
The writing shows incredible promise at the outset. With a dynamite hook that somehow fuses together elements of "Groundhog Day" (1993) and "12 Monkeys" (1995), thought−provoking and original science−fiction seems just around the bend. Captain Colter Stevens' (Jake Gyllenhaal) reliving the same eight−minute experience through a "Matrix" (1999, 2003)−like program of being jacked into the recent past is the stuff of which high−concept dreams are made.
It seems a no−brainer, then, that the "Source Code" script ended up on Hollywood's Black List of most impressive unproduced screenplays in 2007. Parallel universes, time travel and philosophical touchstones like the nature of free will — Ben Ripley's first−time theatrical screenwriting effort hits all the right notes.
And then, it all just flatlines. Every hint at an unorthodox direction is unmasked as a feint, and the crushing familiarity of unambitious storytelling takes hold. Lazy characterization, hackneyed plotting and a comprehensive aversion to risk−taking emerge from beneath the surface of a sharp, polished thriller.
Ultimately it's this troubling balance that hamstrings the film, keeping it free from the echelons of anything but the ordinary. Jones' second directorial effort cracks under thematic scrutiny, and the minimalistic story twists away from its promising premise and exposes a film that is all surface and no depth.
Still, there's no denying that the surface's glossy sheen manages to be quite impressive — even distractingly so.
From the handsome costuming to Gyllenhaal's workmanlike acting and co−star Michelle Monaghan's ever−present charm, bright spots do indeed present themselves. Jones even offers up a handful of compelling images, particularly when gifted with free rein to depict the isolated confines of Captain Stevens' containment chamber, a hard sci−fi construction that's as close as he comes to tapping the creative well so evident in "Moon."
But just about everything else manages to be pleasant and functional yet wholly unremarkable. The production design serves as a perfect example: The major locations and environs are so sanitized they're almost clinical. In fact, the only quality worth mentioning is that they're entirely forgettable — a quality that begins to bleed into the film itself.
Characters that take shape as antagonists fall into precisely the same trap. Rather than operate with any measure of subtlety or nuance as complex individuals, they're illustrated as faint sketches of villainy — more game pieces on the story's map than anything else. By following this pre−set path of conventionally accepted progression rather than charting its own unique course, "Source Code" sticks out as a case of exhausted ambition, in which the dynamism of its opening salvo just can't be sustained.
Despite the charisma brought by its lead actors and occasional flashes of talent from its director — who nonetheless deserves criticism for such a toothless conceptual vision — a fair measure of blame rests on screenwriter Ripley's shoulders. Any script that hinges on "everything is going to be all right" as a key line just isn't exercising its creative muscles, and the ultimate narrative arc can only be as interesting as it is consistent. Ripley manages several brilliant moments of the former but few of the latter, and the rapid transition from originality to orthodoxy is crippling.
Within one of the film's many marketing blurbs, the phrase "pulse−pounding" was brought to the forefront, taken from a review by The Chicago Sun−Times' Richard Roeper. At first glance, it seemed an odd attribution — a familiar turn of phrase rendered strange by its application to a film that systematically fails to generate surprise or anything unexpected in its later stages. But perhaps it's the perfect description, because, like the "tour de force" plastered over every single awards−season drama, the words no longer have meaning. They're a hollow recommendation for a film that seems to lack any true desire to innovate.
